


Exploring Darkness

by feartheviolas



Series: Exploring an Atlas [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Loss, F/M, Found Family, Gunshot Wounds, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt Chloe Decker, Hurt Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Misunderstandings, Nightmares, One Shot Collection, Songfic, Stitches, Trauma, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27158488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feartheviolas/pseuds/feartheviolas
Summary: A collection of short one shots for Whumptober, inspired by the album Atlas: Darkness by Sleeping At Last.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Exploring an Atlas [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982380
Comments: 26
Kudos: 118





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to my whumptober shorts! I've loved reading everyone’s whumptober stories in the past, and so I thought this year I would try my hand at it as a way of giving back (and hopefully contributing to all that awesomeness). I learned several things over the past two weeks as I wrote these; mostly fascinating things about the human body, but also that I am a horrible, horrible monster XD 
> 
> WARNING: NOT ALL THE SHORTS HAVE HAPPY ENDINGS
> 
> Nobody dies, but that being said, some of these stories have ambiguous/open endings, and are open to interpretation. Specific whumptober tags will be in the notes for each chapter, along with the song that goes with the short.
> 
> Thank you to [Violent_Ends](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violent_ends) for betaing!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: [Overture](https://open.spotify.com/track/6zou2mBW3HuSl74qVLT5S4?si=gDQI3lLMTDO8c8w26-iolg)  
> Whumptober prompts: Falling, Nightmares, Memory Loss  
> Set after S5E7

His eyes were closed. And then the universe began. He was full of light; he could feel it illuminating his heart. His siblings were there, and together, they were the architects. As one, they carved their names on the surface of history. His mind cried out in exaltation, and a few wingbeats later he was soaring. He ducked and weaved, sewing new constellations across the sky. He could see angels below him, claiming the land, taming the seas. In the next second, he dove. The newly made air sang against his feathers and he flared his wings out to glide, trailing his fingers through the rise and fall of the ocean swells.

His eyes were closed. He had pointed out flaws in the architecture of the soul. His hands were tied. The air burned. His heart felt cold. He couldn’t breathe. Feathers were torn from his wings. He fought valiantly, but it was no match against the stubborn will of gravity. It wasn’t until the burning started though, that he learned how to scream. The very light he had shaped now shaped him in return, claiming his wings and maiming his soul. It carved its name into the surface of his skin—a mockery of his own constellations.

* * *

His eyes were closed. She watched the rise and fall of his chest. He twisted and thrashed, a constant state of unrest.

“Lucifer!”

He was so close, and yet so far. Her heart leapt when he screamed.

“ _Lucifer!_ ” She reached out, a warm palm against his bare arm.

He gasped and sat up, his chest heaving. She watched him blink the world into focus and squeezed his arm gently in reassurance. He froze.

“Lucifer?”

“Detective?”

She nodded, her heart swelling with warmth as she moved to wrap her arms around him.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he told her.

And suddenly her warmth was gone.

“Was it not good?” she asked; her voice could barely form the question. A black hole swelled within her chest, devouring everything, and drawing her in.

“Nothing in Hell can be good, darling.” He huffed a laugh and she cringed at his amusement. “It was a valiant attempt though. The details are really quite exquisite. You even got her scent right.”

Chloe forgot how to breathe.

“We—we’re not in Hell. Lucifer, you—you came home. It’s—I’m me.”

“Now, we _both_ know that would be impossible. The Detective would _never_ sleep with me.” Lucifer leered at her and slid out of the bed. He ran his hands through his hair, his torso on display, before he covered it with his silk robe.

She tried not to stare, tried not to let her gaze linger on his beautiful figure. “You don’t remember last night at—at all then?” She could feel her pounding heartbeat.

He turned to her and raised an eyebrow. “And I’m sure it was _marvelous_. At least for you. Best night of your life, right?”

The black hole claimed another casualty. She _had_ enjoyed their first time together. It had been _more_ than marvelous. She had thought that he felt that way too. Had she done something wrong? She tried to get a grip on herself. Inhale, exhale, and reset. It wasn’t working, and her eyes burned with tears. She couldn’t bear to watch, but she couldn’t look away. Did he really think it wasn’t real? How could he—

“I’d offer you a drink, but I’m sure you have work to do.” His figure was blurred by her tears as he moved to pour himself a glass of whiskey at the bar. “Well? What are you waiting for? Off you pop.” He gestured towards the exit.

“Lucifer,” her voice whispered while her mind screamed. “ _Please_. I lo—”

“ _Don’t._ ” He whirled around, the crystal glass cracking in his hand. “I’ve been gracious, but you’re not the Detective, you can’t be her. She’s not _here_ ,” he snarled, his eyes suddenly ablaze. “If you wish to remain alive, I suggest you _leave_.”

Something inside her was suddenly severed. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see. She wanted to scream. Instead, she grabbed her clothes and ran. Her chest was heaving as the elevator doors slid closed, an overwhelming rush of blood pounding in her ears. She sobbed and folded in on herself, her feelings a mix of humiliation, shock, fear for him and their future. The descent felt like falling in slow motion.

Even…even after everything she’d seen… After everything they’d been through, she’d barely caught a glimpse of all Lucifer could be. She’d thought… maybe they could be past this. Maybe they would finally be okay. But no. She was wrong. Her heart was empty, her soul was cold. All the light had gone out in the world.

Her eyes were closed.


	2. Woodwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: [Woodwork](https://open.spotify.com/track/3eJ9DTZpAKU7O8AAHtNA2F?si=il0iXydMS-qzDnP2TY1A-g)  
> Whumptober prompts: Accidents, Shot, Punctured  
> Set mid S4

It didn’t hurt.

At least at first. For a second, he wondered if Amenadiel had gotten his powers back.

And then he was on the ground as his world caved in on him.

“ _Lucifer!_ ”

It hurt. _Bloody hell_ it _hurt_.

“Oh my _god_. Lucifer!”

He tried to roll his eyes, but they wouldn’t respond. He opened his mouth, and it was filled with the taste of rust. His body seized and he choked. He couldn’t breathe. _Why_ couldn’t he breathe? He coughed violently and crimson liquid poured from his lips, staining his face.

Something heavy pressed into his chest, and he wheezed pitifully in pain. He could feel his own heart as it beat an unsteady rhythm.

“Lucifer, hang in there, okay? You were shot. I—I think you may have a punctured lung. I’m so, so sorry, I should have seen—God, I’m so sorry,” a voice rang out beneath the sound of crashing cars and shattered glass.

He needed to reassure the voice. He had to explain that it hadn’t been her fault. He couldn’t move, his voice a slave to coughing. There was so much _pain._ He could feel himself coming undone.

“I should have trusted you. You were right about the suspect.” The voice was choking now too. “You can do this, okay? You can’t leave me. I know you can do this, you’re strong.”

Darkness was crashing against his mind, but he fought it back. There was movement and then the soft, hitching sound of breathing hit his ears. His world reappeared. His breath rattled unsteadily but he clung to the light of the voice.

“Fight it Lucifer, fight it. _Please_ don’t leave me. I was so stupid not to realize. _Please,_ Lucifer, I—I need to tell you, I need you to know—I love you.”

He could feel drops of something wet falling on his face. The voice carried on, its melody whispering softly in his ears.

It was a cruel, cruel trick, that he should finally have all this. That it would take him losing everything else—dying even—for it to come out of the woodwork. His attempt at a laugh was rewarded with more painful, choking gasps. The darkness knew exactly when to make its return, as he felt himself breaking anew.

The light faded slowly from his mind, while in the distance, wailing sirens poured out into the street. The strangely muffled cacophony surrounded him like a comforting blanket, and he felt himself curl up inside its embrace and let go.

It didn’t hurt anymore.


	3. I'll Keep You Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: [I’ll Keep You Safe](https://open.spotify.com/track/2FbNyOVY5ngt5m7kSxEbr7?si=yhsw96q6Ry6UxNIdv9pRNA)  
> Whumptober prompts: Comfort, Stitches, Altered States  
> Set mid S4
> 
> A bit of a breather for you all :P

After all the time he had spent around the Detective, pain was no longer a new experience, and yet—it still fascinated him each time he experienced it. Especially like this. His head swam under the influence of the various substances he had ingested over the course of the evening—he had lost track after the lighting fixtures had begun to give fashion advice. They had _terrible_ opinions on dress shoes. Maybe he ought to have them replaced.

There was something he was forgetting… what was it? He took a deep breath, and the thick leather scent of his sofa filled his head. Such a _nice_ sofa. He felt himself smile. Smiles were so strange, but they felt _lovely_. Humans needed to hear about this. Tomorrow, he would tell everyone about how wonderful smiling felt. But first… there was something he had to do…

“Lucifer? … _Lucifer?_ ”

Something jostled him and he felt a fresh wave of pain throb through his hand. It reminded him of a drumbeat. Or a gong. Yes, a gong. He squeezed his fist, and the pain rang out across his mind, nearly unbearable at first, and then fading to a softer, richer sound around the edges as the seconds passed. _Fascinating._

“Lucifer, I need you to try to concentrate,” the Detective knelt in front of him and peered up at his eyes.

The Detective! The Detective was here! Why was the Detective here? No matter. She was beautiful. More beautiful than any landscape his Father had created.

“Lucifer, I need to treat your cut. It’s bleeding a lot and I think you might need stitches. Hold out your hand.” The Detective reached for his hand, and he looked down.

She was right, his hand was bleeding. It was completely covered in blood. He stretched his fingers out to examine it and watched, entranced, as small, glimmering ruby droplets fell from his fingertips and stained his pantleg.

“Don’t! You’ll only make it worse!” the Detective protested sharply. “Here, I’m going to pull up your sleeve.” She held his wrist, and he could feel the warm weight of her touch as she undid his left cufflink and slowly slid his stained sleeve up his arm. She grabbed a cloth and spread it out under his hand, before pouring something over the wound.

He inhaled sharply, pulling his hand back. This pain was different. Thinner, sharper. Not the dull throb of the gong, more like the incessant high-pitched whine of a violin.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t be afraid,” the Detective soothed.

“I’m the _Devil,_ I’m not afraid of _anything_ ,” he insisted. _He_ was the one people feared.

The Detective ignored him and examined his hand closely. “I don’t think there’s any glass in the wound. It was a pretty clean break, and the cut isn’t jagged, just deep.”

Lucifer huffed in frustration and tugged on his hand again. “Detective, have you forgotten I’m immortal? I don’t need you to suture my wounds. Once you leave, it’ll heal up. I’ll be good as new.”

“Lucifer… when was the last time you let someone take care of you?”

He scoffed. He wasn’t helpless. He’d been taking care of himself since… since… It didn’t matter how long it had been. “Nobody takes care of me, I’m—”

“The Devil, yes, I know. And you’re wrong. _I_ take care of you. Everyone needs someone to take care of them every now and then. So, let me do this, not just for you, but for me. _Please._ ” She gave him one of her looks.

He averted his eyes, not able to bring himself to hold her gaze, but eventually he sighed and nodded. He could indulge her and her strange human needs. “One condition. I’d like some more alcohol first, please.” His buzz was fading, and he desperately needed a drink.

She rolled her eyes but handed him the glass from the table before getting to work.

He sipped the whiskey and watched as she carefully threaded a needle and cleaned his hand again before starting. Something about the whole process was oddly soothing. He felt himself relax, the pain in his hand fading to a dull buzz at the back of his mind, like an old radio someone had left on in another room. Each pull of the thread slowly closed the tear in his hand and gently tugged at long-buried memories of another time. A time when he had stitched the stars across the sky. When he had been an architect and an artist. When he had created his masterpiece…

“You deserve to be cared for, you know. You’re a good person. It’s okay to make mistakes. They’re part of being alive and learning, they’re bound to happen. It’s how you learn from your mistakes that really matters. Everyone deserves a second chance. If everyone else got to know you like I did? All those stories of evil and darkness would be rewritten. They’d realize it was all just a ridiculous fiction.” She paused her stitching to look at him and give him a small smile.

He turned away and took another sip of his whiskey. His chest was tight, and he felt oddly warm. He focused on the burning of the alcohol in his throat. The bitterness of its cold taste. He didn’t deserve her words. They were too sweet. He felt an intense yearning, one he couldn’t let it in. He _wanted_. He couldn’t. He had to pull himself away.

“But of course, Detective. Who could meet me and be repelled? Well, besides you of course, but I think I’ve done a mighty fine job of bringing you around, wouldn’t you say?” He winked at her.

She rolled her eyes, and he grinned. Success. The pesky sweetness was contained.

“Whatever you say, Lucifer. But know this: regardless of how you see yourself, your heart is pure. Thank you for letting me keep you safe.”


	4. Bad Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: [Bad Blood](https://open.spotify.com/track/68kauVc03bULNA2Pi0VXs2?si=4kM221_1TA6atAdowlsC6g)  
> Whumptober prompts: Water, Presumed Dead, Carry/Support  
> Set mid S2

“ _Detective!_ ”

He didn’t think. He dove forwards, his hands reaching out and closing on thin air.

For a few seconds they were both falling. He knew what came next. He knew this part all by heart.

The unforgiving swells of the ocean broke his fall, cold and pain stealing his breath away. He kicked out desperately, his mind in a panic. Salt water burned his throat and eyes as he broke the surface and struggled to get oxygen back. A blinding pain shot through his ribs with every choke, gasp, and wheeze. The dangerous currents yanked at his legs, but they were no match for his celestial strength. He spun in place, his eyes searching frantically, but the Detective was hidden somewhere among the swells of the sea. He ducked under again, squinting against the sting.

_There_.

His eyes fixed on flashes of brown sweater and blonde hair. He lunged towards her, his strokes urgent. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to the surface. She was completely limp—not breathing. Immediately, he lifted her head and chest, and then it was her turn to find her breath. When seawater poured from her mouth, his ribs protested his sigh of relief.

“’ciferrr,” she rasped, shivering from the cold.

“Detective, there’s nowhere to stand here. Are you hurt?” He examined her visually.

“I—I dunno… whasappen?” Her speech was slurred. “Head hurs, arm ‘lso.”

His relief was gone. He tentatively probed her arm with his fingertips, stopping when he felt a bump and heard a gasp.

“I believe your arm is broken, Detective. And you may have a concussion, as well,” he diagnosed.

Her eyes slid off of him, half closed and unfocused.

Lucifer swallowed tightly, his mind overflowing with fear and concern. He needed to find a place where they could land, and fast. He rolled onto his back and placed her head on his chest, ignoring his tender ribs. He wrapped his arms firmly around her; then, kicking his legs, he moved them away from the currents trying to dash them against the rocks.

The coastline was unforgiving, stone cliffs giving them the cold shoulder, denying them their return to land. After several minutes without a response from the Detective, he found a rocky cove with a small beach. He carried her out of the water and lay her down in the rough sand. Her lips and extremities were blue, and he shook her gently in an attempt to rouse her. She let out a small whine but didn’t open her eyes.

The sun was setting, and he had started to shiver as well. He had no idea how long it would be until help came, plus, they had drifted quite some distance from their original falling point. _Bollocks._ He wished he still had his wings. There might be one thing…

He carefully removed their soaked clothes, wishing that it could have been under very different circumstances. Then he lay down next to her and wrapped himself around her, searching deep within himself for any traces of his light. The same source of light he had used to make the sun. When a tiny echo, a speck of his source flared to life, he focused all his energy on amplifying it. He would use it to warm the Detective until its collapse.

* * *

He didn’t know how long it had been. His thoughts slow and sluggish, he drifted in and out of consciousness, and parts of his body grew numb. The ache in his ribs was now dulled and distant; the light inside him wavered and dimmed, sapping the energy of his soul. He was so cold… He huddled closer to the Detective; it took all his effort just to move those few inches. Shakily, he felt her cool skin and weak pulse. Where her soul had once been like a roaring fire, burning bright, it was now a timid flicker, barely clinging to life.

Truly desperate, he flung his mind out, calling on his Father, his siblings, asking for someone to help. He told himself it was in the name of being brave, but he would never admit he was truly afraid. He begged and pleaded, promising that he had learned his lesson. Maybe they could be convinced. He argued his bearings and admitted his faults.

There was bad blood in him, he knew that. He had been broken right from the start. But the Detective, she was inherently good. She was the living concept of grace and he knew her beauty by heart. She wasn’t tainted like him; she was fragile, flesh and blood, and she deserved to be saved.

If he hadn’t rebelled, hadn’t chosen will over tradition… if he still had his wings… It was all his fault. He had been selfish. He shouldn’t have gotten involved in the Detective’s life. Now, she suffered the consequences of knowing him.

He closed his eyes, promising himself it would be just for a second. His light faltered but held. He had to do something… He could feel his soul fading. He knew that soon, the remaining light would be gone altogether. He burrowed his face against the Detective. He could rest a few minutes longer… the cold wasn’t even so unbearable anymore…


	5. Uneven Odds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: [Uneven Odds](https://open.spotify.com/track/4JYr1xUh8LNr2L9TMdlLll?si=ymQZQLCGS_SXX9MM46MSxg)  
> Whumptober prompts: Found Family, Stoic Whumpees, Adverse Reactions  
> Set mid S5a

Chloe Decker handed a wine glass to the Devil himself, as he sat, perched on her couch, skeptically watching her daughter shuffle cards for a game called ‘Exploding Kittens’.

“Come on, Lucifer.” She nudged his shoulder teasingly. “It’s not like they’re _actually_ going to explode.”

Lucifer huffed and rolled his eyes. “I know _that_. Honestly, Detective, cats are bloody atrocious animals. We’d be better off if more of them did explode.”

Chloe shook her head and smiled. She loved these nights. This was one of the things she had missed the most while Lucifer had been gone: just being able to relax and have a good time with the two people she loved the most.

Trixie started dealing cards to each of them. “I promise you guys are gonna _love_ it. It’s _hilarious._ Brianna was telling me how much fun she had playing it with her family last week, and I knew I had to play it with mine.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great, monkey,” Chloe told her, reaching out to take her cards. She shuffled through them, examining them. This was a bizarre game.

“Lucifer?”

Chloe looked up at the sound of her daughter’s question. Trixie was holding out his cards to him, but he hadn’t moved forwards to take them. Instead, he sat on the couch like a statue, his body stiff and his gaze far away.

“Lucifer?” she repeated her daughter’s question hesitantly.

“I have to—” He cut himself off and stood suddenly. Without speaking, he turned and walked outside.

“Mom?” Trixie asked, Chloe’s concern reflected in her voice.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go talk to him. Just give us a few minutes, okay?”

Her daughter nodded and Chloe got up to follow him, worry gnawing at her stomach.

She found him standing outside, smoking a cigarette. He didn’t acknowledge her approach.

“Hey, did something happen?” she asked him gently.

“I’m fine, Detective. Go back to your offspring.” His voice was distant, detached.

“Lucifer… you don’t sound fine. Something is bothering you. Let me help,” she coaxed, putting a hand on his arm.

He huffed in frustration. “I’ve already intruded on your family night; I’m not going to ruin it completely.”

“What on earth are you talking about? You’re not intruding, Lucifer.” Chloe was genuinely puzzled now. Had Dan said something to him at work? She thought they’d made up.

“Detective, your offspring mentioned she wanted to play the game with _her_ family. I am not a part of family night. I wouldn’t even belong at my _own_ family’s family night—not that angels would ever play board games. They had other ways of demonstrating their affection.” He let out a bitter laugh. “After all, I was forced to make sense of my Father’s love in the fires of Hell… The weight of the world was placed on my shoulders that day. He cursed me to learn a lesson I still don’t understand.” His voice remained even, but his distress was betrayed by his shaking hands. He let go of his cigarette and it fell to the ground, where he crushed it under his shoe.

“It’s okay. It’s okay if you don’t understand.” Chloe moved closer and took his hands. “But you’re not alone anymore. You _do_ have a family, just maybe not the one you were born into. You’re _my_ family, you’re _Trixie’s_ family. When she talked about playing that game with her family, she meant you, too. We’re your family, and we’ll be here for you, to help you mend your heart and live your life. We love you.” She squeezed his hands to emphasize her point.

He was fighting back tears now. “I don’t deserve—”

“You’re the light bringer, right? Maybe… the darkness of your past is the dirt, and your light is a seed. And despite all the uneven odds, you made it out and blossomed into a flower. The beauty of your light broke through the earth that was heaped on top of you. You survived and you got stronger. You went through _so much_ bad, but you’re still a _good_ man. Going through all that darkness just makes your light that much more inspiring and impressive.”

He stared at her in astonishment. “Detective…”

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Come back inside, Lucifer. It’s time for our family night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! To those of you who left comments and/or kudos, I am so glad you enjoyed the story and I appreciate your feedback :)
> 
> I loved participating in Whumptober, and it was a lot of fun to go back to songfics and figure out how to work with the songs and the whump prompts. I hope I didn’t break anyone too badly XD
> 
> I have two longfics in progress right now:  
> 1) Pirates 3, which has a title now! It’s going to be called At the Kraken’s Mercy. I don’t have an exact eta for it, but due to the amount of writing I have to do for uni before mid December, it won’t be around until next year. I’d like to have it completely written before the next semester starts in January, but I’m not going to make any promises on when posting will start. 
> 
> 2) Monsters sequel, which also has a title now: A Duet of Two Hearts. I changed the title of the first fic, since the series is going to be called Monsters of LA, and I thought the first fic deserved a distinct title, so it is now The Song of a Soul. It’s still the same fic, just under a new name. The Monsters sequel also has no specific eta, but it will be after Pirates 3. My personal goal is to have it finished before summer 2021, but again, no promises on when I will start posting, especially with all the craziness that is the world rn. 
> 
> There may be some oneshots or songfics that show up in the interim while I work on these two.
> 
> Thanks again for reading my stories! It means a lot to me :)


End file.
